BREAKING THE GAME
CHAPTER NINE
Tsuzuki and Hisoka sat on the grass in a far corner of the grounds, soaking up the early evening sunshine.
Tsuzuki had wanted to get his partner away from the press of minds in the JuOhCho building, and out here the colour was slowly returning to Hisoka’s cheeks. He was toying with a blade of grass, but would not make eye contact, so Tsuzuki forced himself to wait, to lie on his back and watch the slow drift of the clouds.
He’d wanted to go with Tatsumi to the chief’s office, but Tatsumi wouldn’t hear of it.
“I am the one who works directly with Konoe-kacho,” Tatsumi had said, his face and voice hardening even as he spoke. “And I am the one he summoned. I will see you at my apartment in half an hour.”
Tsuzuki just managed to nod before Tatsumi turned and swept out of the room. Difficult as it was to see him go, Tsuzuki knew he had to think about Hisoka.
“Come on,” he said, gently nudging his partner’s arm as he stood pale and stunned, staring at the open door. “Fresh air, I think.” To his relief, Hisoka nodded, stirring into life.
As they hurried down the corridor together, it was clear that the drama had not gone unheard. Eyes stared at them from behind glass-panelled doors, and Terazuma was slouching against a wall.
“Wow,” he muttered. “You’re even worse than I thought.”
Tsuzuki slowed down, but before he could think of a retort, Terazuma subsided. Looking round, Tsuzuki saw that Wakaba had appeared in the mouth of the door opposite, glaring knives at her partner - though she avoided Tsuzuki’s eyes. Only Watari, breezing across their path by apparent coincidence, gave Tsuzuki a giant grin and a thumbs up.
Eventually they reached the main doors.
“Do you want to go straight home?” Tsuzuki asked, steeling himself for a cold yes, but to his relief it didn’t come.
“No.” Hisoka avoided Tsuzuki’s eyes, but he didn’t sound hostile. “Let’s sit,” he suggested suddenly.
“All right,” agreed Tsuzuki readily, and steered them out onto the lawn and around the corner of the building, heading for the gentle slope at the base of the outer fence. He looked round several times, but nobody came after them.
That had been some time ago, and still Hisoka hadn’t spoken. In a situation like this, Tsuzuki would usually do something annoying, just to get a reaction, but today... no, not today.
Yet he also knew that the time Tatsumi had set for them to meet was fast approaching. It was hard not to fixate on what Tatsumi and Konoe might be saying – and start giving out panic vibes that Hisoka would be sure to pick up on.
Lying on the ground next to Hisoka’s turned back, Tsuzuki sneaked a look at his watch.
“You’re worried about him,” Hisoka stated then.
Tsuzuki sat up hastily. A cheerful brush-off rose to his lips, then died as he remembered that wasn’t how he did things any more.
“Yes,” he admitted simply. “He... asked me to wait at his apartment.”
“So you have to go,” replied Hisoka. He threaded a blade of grass through the bow of his shoelace.
“For now,” conceded Tsuzuki. He wanted to say so much more, but his head seemed to be empty and full at the same time, as if everything in there had fused into an insoluble mass, and picking out a single thought would be impossible. “I’ll be on time for work tomorrow,” he blurted then, and it seemed such a ridiculous thing to say, but also somehow so comforting, as if Hisoka was sure to understand.
Hisoka raised his head, staring straight ahead, and for a moment his mouth moved silently. When he finally spoke, the words came in a rush.
“I’m sorry I’ve made things difficult for everyone and I don’t agree with the chief at all, but I still think you’re ill. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.”
“I know you do,” responded Tsuzuki, trying to keep his voice calm, though he felt suddenly sick at heart. What had he expected? Hisoka to have a big revelation and turn into an empathic version of Watari?
“Tatsumi’s wrong to hurt you, and you should get help,” Hisoka pressed the heel of his hand against the grass with each statement, as if he was trying to root his words in the ground. “But I know you think differently, and I know you two care about each other and...” he paused, then finally met Tsuzuki’s eyes. “I promise I’ll try to understand, if I can.”
Tsuzuki did not know what to say. Instead he reached out and picked up one of Hisoka’s hands, moving slowly so that his partner could flinch away if he needed to. But Hisoka stayed still, and Tsuzuki held the hand lightly in his own, dimly sensing the intimacy of the connection this made to Hisoka’s empathy, but not pushing it, just offering up the mess of warmth and confusion in his heart.
“Donuts are on me tomorrow,” he said cheerfully aloud. “I’ll get you something really boring, I promise. Not a chocolate sprinkle in sight.”
“Idiot,” said Hisoka with mild reproach, and they sat like that for a few more moments, until it was time for Tsuzuki to go.
~*~
Tatsumi remained in his own office until the stroke of the hour.
It was perhaps ridiculous on a day when most of the rest of the staff seemed to have spontaneously proclaimed early closing and could be heard rustling and whispering curiously as they passed his office on their way home; but it was his custom to put in regular hours, even if he could not think clearly enough to use the time to full profit.
So as not to be completely idle, and to fight off the temptation to go out there and yell at whoever was giggling at the edge of hearing, he took down the contents of three of his shelves and reordered them according to the new system he had been intending to implement for some time. Shifting hefty files was manual work: sufficient to slightly dissipate the tension inside him without significantly tiring him.
He wanted to keep his energy, both mental and physical, for the evening.
And yet he could not help going over and over the meeting with Konoe in his mind, though it had lasted bare minutes. The chief’s anger had not surprised him as such... in his boss’s place, Tatsumi would have felt the same, at least as far as the breakdown in discipline was concerned. But the intimate crassness had been something new.
Seated rigidly upright in the uncomfortably low chair in front of Konoe’s desk, Tatsumi had barely begun his formal apology when Konoe interrupted him.
“Tatsumi, it’s not my business if you bugger the Gushoshin in your spare time. But you don’t bring it to work!”
Tatsumi blinked. “It will not happen again, I give you my word,” he said stiffly. That sounded far weaker than he’d intended; the script that had been forming in his mind had seemed to slip out of focus as soon as the office door closed behind him.
Konoe sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “I’m not a fool. I know Enma likes to hire pretty young men. As Kurosaki-kun says, to some people these things are acceptable.”
“But not to you.”
Konoe looked away for a moment. “It’s an issue of civilised behaviour, Tatsumi. You haven’t used the slightest discretion – even for appearances’ sake, which is hardly like you.”
“I apologise for the disruption,” Tatsumi reiterated. To that extent, he had to agree with his boss: he had no intention of repeating such an outburst on office time. “If you wish to discipline me in some appropriate way, I will accept it.”
“Discipline you?” Konoe sounded surprised, then pulled a face, as if his own bewilderment was an off-colour joke. “You’re still the best damn worker in Meifu.”
“I see,” responded Tatsumi icily. “Because of my professional competence you cannot afford to object to me beyond a certain point.”
“Don’t play the damned martyr!” Konoe upbraided sharply, facing Tatsumi full-on once again. “Let’s get this absolutely clear. If what Kurosaki-kun says is true, buggery is the least of what you two got up to. And Tsuzuki’s mental health is hardly stable, you of all people should understand that. Do you honestly think you know what you’re doing?
For a moment, Tatsumi simply stared at Konoe, taking in his heavy scowl, the lines on his forehead, and the genuine concern mixed with the anger in his eyes.
“I have given you my word about my future conduct in the office,” he said eventually. “I will ensure Tsuzuki-san complies as well. Beyond that, the matter is not open for question.”
Konoe sighed heavily, and shook his head. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, turning his attention back to the documents spread in front of him.
Tatsumi went back to his office to wait for the hour to sound.
~*~
Tsuzuki was sitting on a floor cushion in Tatsumi’s immaculate living room when the patch of shadow shimmered into view. In a few seconds the distorted blackness had dissipated, and there was the lean, elegant form of Tatsumi, looking from side to side then catching sight of Tsuzuki and starting towards him.
They met as Tsuzuki made it to his feet, and Tatsumi pulled him into an embrace which was almost a death grip. Tsuzuki tried to relax into it, resting his head on the dark-jacketed shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent.
“Talk to me?” he said quietly.
Abruptly Tatsumi drew back. He took Tsuzuki tightly by the upper arms and stared into his face.
“Never let me hurt you again, do you understand?” Tatsumi said in a low, almost choked voice. “You can turn me over to Touda first.”
Frightened, Tsuzuki gazed back at the churning mix of emotion in Tatsumi’s normally impassive blue eyes.
“You don’t mean physically, do you,” he murmured, and the words sounded stupid and obvious, but at least they broke the heavy spell of Tatsumi’s distress.
“Let’s sit down,” Tsuzuki suggested, and to his relief, Tatsumi sank onto the cushion beside him. He crossed his legs, making something clink in his pocket, and leant his head back to press the top of his scalp against the wall at an uncomfortable-looking angle.
Tatsumi stared fixedly up at the ceiling, and Tsuzuki longed to reach out to him, but an invisible barrier seemed to have sprung up between them.
“I don’t trust myself with you,” Tatsumi said after a few moments, in a tone that was half-distant and half-pleading. “So why should it surprise me that nobody else does?”
Tsuzuki’s hand itched to thread its way around Tatsumi’s shoulders, but he held back, biting his lip against the impulse. Tatsumi seemed vulnerable and shut off at the same time, the way he had earlier on, when he’d stood in the office window and talked about feeling responsible for Kyoto – taking everything on himself, like he always did, while Tsuzuki only thought about getting off.
“I trust you,” said Tsuzuki, moving round onto his knees and touching Tatsumi’s arm in spite of himself. He never knew what to do when Tatsumi was suffering. Tatsumi would never admit to being upset, so usually Tsuzuki had a choice between ignoring it or letting it drive him mad.
But they couldn’t go on like that. Tsuzuki knew it, and perhaps Tatsumi knew it too.
“What did Konoe say?” Tsuzuki prompted very gently.
Tatsumi swivelled his head around, still holding his crown against the wall, and his eyes were very wide and bright behind their frames. “Konoe-kacho believes you are mentally unstable, and I am endangering you,” he said almost calmly. “That appears to be a popular opinion.”
Tsuzuki let one corner of his mouth quirk in rueful acknowledgement. “But you don’t believe that any more?”
“No,” Tatsumi had to raise his head back to a normal position to shake it, and as he moved, some of the terrible tension seemed to drain out of him. “And I do not believe Konoe-kacho will interfere in our private business, provided we are discreet in the office in future. When I said you must not allow me to hurt you, you were right, I was not referring to physical pain. I meant that if you are happy, there are few people in Meifu who would truly grudge you the means of that happiness, however strange it may seem to them at first.”
Tsuzuki nodded slowly, to show that he understood what Tatsumi was asking. “I’ll act so happy that everyone in the department gets a migraine,” he promised with a lopsided grin.
“I want it to be more than an act,” Tatsumi reproached gently. “I want to make you as happy... as you’ve done for me.”
He studied Tsuzuki intensely for a moment, and then his expression softened. Lifting Tsuzuki’s hand off his arm, he brought it to his lips. Delicately he kissed the little pad on the end of the forefinger, then took it between his teeth and bit down.
“Ow,” protested Tsuzuki contentedly as Tatsumi regarded him slyly from half-lidded eyes.
Tatsumi released the fingertip and kissed it again. Then he brought his left hand up, and twined his fingers with Tsuzuki’s. He tugged a little, then changed to pushing, and their joined hands danced in mid-air.
“Well, it appears I have lost my mind entirely,” he observed wryly.
A little bubble of joy broke free from Tsuzuki’s stomach and rose to his throat as he watched Tatsumi play with their hands.
“I love you,” he said.
Tatsumi’s arm froze mid-swing, and he looked up.
“And I have always loved you,” he said quietly. “Whatever mistakes I’ve made, that has never changed for a moment.”
“I promise I never forgot about...” Tsuzuki started, then trailed off. It was hard to put this into words, but he had to for Tatsumi’s sake. “I know sometimes I’ve been cold to you too,” he admitted, feeling the guilty prickle of memories – the times he’d denied Tatsumi simple consideration just because Tatsumi couldn’t accept the whole package that Tsuzuki wanted to offer. “I was selfish. I was afraid of getting hurt. Because I knew if I let myself think about you like this again, I couldn’t bear to let go.”
“Then don’t let go,” murmured Tatsumi. An arm snaked around Tsuzuki’s waist, and suddenly he found himself pulled around to land in Tatsumi’s lap.
“I won’t,” whispered Tsuzuki as their faces came close together. Tatsumi’s hand began to play lightly downwards from his shoulder and he shivered a little, feeling his cock stirring into life. He brought his own hand up to cup the side of Tatsumi’s chin.
“Mmm,” said Tatsumi thoughtfully, half-closing his eyes again. “Perhaps, to be absolutely sure of your good behaviour, I should tie you down.”
Tsuzuki opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off by a loud growling noise. Startled, he looked down – just as he realised the noise had come from his stomach.
“Oops,” he said, then thought for a moment. “I don’t believe it – I actually forgot to eat lunch today. I just drank some tea. I’m sorry.”
But Tatsumi only laughed, his eyes creasing with kindness as he gently disentangled himself from their embrace. “Tsuzuki-san, I’m flattered beyond measure by that admission. However, it is clearly now my duty to cook you dinner.”
“That would be great,” Tsuzuki acknowledged, only half-concentrating.. Thinking back, the last thing he’d eaten had been a cookie that morning, with Hisoka, before… everything.
“Tatsumi –” he said suddenly, shifting off Tatsumi’s lap to kneel on the cushion again. “I think Hisoka will come round eventually. He said he’d try.”
“I believe you’re right,” said Tatsumi, drawing his legs up ready to stand, and smiling with his eyes. “This is unquestionably difficult for Kurosaki-kun, but he cares about you deeply. In certain ways, I suspect he understand you better than I do.”
“Maybe,” conceded Tsuzuki. He felt distracted, his mind filled with memories of everything he and Hisoka had gone through, that day and before. “Tatsumi, don’t get me wrong,” he said then, getting to his feet and taking Tatsumi’s hand so that they stood up together. “Hisoka is my best friend, and I love him. But you… you would have let me die at Kyoto.”
Tatsumi regarded him intently, letting his hand rest lightly inside Tsuzuki’s.
“Yes,” he said simply. “At first, that was what I intended. It seemed to me that the decision was yours to make. Then I saw you react to Kurosaki-kun, and…” Tatsumi trailed off, shaking his head as pain clouded his eyes. “We have already spoken of this. Why do you bring it up now?”
Tsuzuki smiled for a moment, until some of the strain had faded from Tatsumi’s expression, then he raised his lover’s hand to his lips, and kissed the back of it. “Because... I know I’m not an easy person sometimes. I needed to die then. Hisoka did change my mind, but the feeling was real, and you saw that. This time, I guess I need to live – but in a kind of weird way that’s typical for me, and…” Tsuzuki shrugged slightly, trying to keep his tone light so that his voice wouldn’t crack and embarrass Tatsumi. “Look at us. You’re here with me, idiot that I am.”
“I would never try to change you,” responded Tatsumi, His expression did not alter, but there was such feeling in his eyes that it seemed to enfold Tsuzuki completely. “Keeping up with you may be a little more difficult,” he paused, and the slightest smile flickered across his face. “But change you? No.”
“Then I’ll promise you this,” Tsuzuki murmured, giving up on his composure and throwing his arms around Tatsumi’s neck. “It won’t all be about me this time. I want to make you happy too.”
They clung together for a few moments, and Tsuzuki could feel Tatsumi trembling slightly – from emotion or sex he didn’t know, and didn’t care, because it was all the same thing now. But inevitably Tsuzuki’s stomach went off again, and Tatsumi pulled back.
“Insatiable,” he laughed, kissing the end of Tsuzuki’s nose.
“In more ways than one,” Tsuzuki promised, licking Tatsumi’s chin. “Dinner won’t take long. I’ll help you with it.”
Tsuzuki was slightly put out when Tatsumi raised his eyebrows.
“All right,” Tatsumi conceded then. “If it’s inedible, I will just have to punish you.”
~*~
They ate kneeling at right angles to each other, Tsuzuki on one side of the small dining table and Tatsumi at its head. The dish was simple – leftover rice with vegetables – and quite edible, Tsuzuki having been relegated to chopping duties.
Tatsumi ate calmly, trying to tune out distractions . He felt the need to slow down and reflect for a few minutes, and to his relief Tsuzuki seemed to understand and accept that.
Not that he stood much chance of taking in the full enormity of everything that had happened today. Kurosaki... Konoe... there were obstacles to overcome, and he would put his mind to them in due course. For these few moments he would simply eat, and be at rest.
But he couldn’t tune Tsuzuki out, not completely. He couldn’t help glancing up, just to reassure himself that Tsuzuki was truly here, in his apartment. And that brought on the other thoughts, the ones that were so very familiar but had changed utterly in tone, from dank and dreadful accusations lurking at the back of his mind, to a source of joyful anticipation.
Tatsumi placed his chopsticks in his bowl, slipped a hand into his pocket, and felt there the metal binder clips which he had picked up from the office: a dozen of them, of varying size and strength. Inside his pocket, he snapped one of the clips against the others.
“What's that?” asked Tsuzuki on cue, pausing with food half way to his mouth. He glanced first at Tatsumi’s pocket and then his face. “It didn’t sound like keys.”
“They aren’t,” said Tatsumi calmly. The way Tsuzuki looked at him flooded him with exhilaration; he felt utterly sure of himself now.
But there was one last thing he needed to know.
“Tsuzuki-san,” he said. “Please answer this question honestly – do you need me to beat you bloody every time?”
Tsuzuki looked surprised for a moment, as if he had been expecting some other question. Then his expression changed to one of thoughtfulness, and finally a smile. “No,” he said with certainty. “Today was like... a kind of test, wasn’t it. I couldn’t take that very often, shinigami healing or not.”
Tatsumi nodded slowly, feeling an unexpected relief, as if a final veil of pretence had fallen away before he’d even known it was there. “And I could not give it very often,” he admitted.
“I guess that works out then,” said Tsuzuki. He regarded Tatsumi for a moment, then gathered more rice with his chopsticks – but Tatsumi reached over and grabbed his wrist.
The chopsticks clattered to the table.
“Dinner is over, Tsuzuki-san,” Tatsumi said. His cock stirred under the table as a flush crept into Tsuzuki’s cheeks and his beautiful amethyst eyes began to darken towards purple. “Get up,” he ordered, releasing his grip. “Go to the bedroom.”
Tsuzuki’s eyes sparkled as he scrambled to obey, and Tatsumi followed, but more slowly. That afternoon, in his messy office, Tsuzuki had written the script for their encounter. Now though, they were on Tatsumi’s territory and, with a sudden fluttering in his stomach, he realised he would make the rules. Tsuzuki wanted him to make the rules.
At this time of day, his bedroom was filled with slanting sunlight. The light gleamed off the polished wood of the bedframe and the simple Japanese chest – and from Tsuzuki’s dark hair, as he knelt by the foot of the bed, head bowed.
Tatsumi removed his jacket and tie and hung them on the back of the door. His hands wanted to tremble with haste, but he would not let them; not now.
Instead he went to sit on the end of his bed. He twined a hand in Tsuzuki’s hair, pulling his head back, and Tsuzuki looked up at him, eyes wide and expectant.
For one last moment, Tatsumi concentrated on something other than Tsuzuki. Shadows climbed the walls and seeped into every crevice.
“Stand,” he said quietly, letting the hair slide from his fist.
Tsuzuki obeyed. Tatsumi stood up with him, and slipped one hand between Tsuzuki’s shirt and the rim of his trousers. Nudging material aside, he felt the warmth of skin; the faint bulge of Tsuzuki’s hip bone, shading upwards to his waist.
Pushing his thumb forward, Tatsumi played a little with Tsuzuki’s belly button, pinching the flesh with his thumbnail, making Tsuzuki draw breath and half-smile, his eyes darkening. Slowly Tatsumi unbuttoned his lover’s shirt, pulling it carefully free of his arms and folding it before he placed it on the nearby chest. Then he indicated that Tsuzuki was to turn around, and bound his hands behind him with his thin black tie.
As Tatsumi eased Tsuzuki’s boxer shorts over his swelling cock, the head caught in the loose material. On impulse, Tatsumi pulled it roughly free – and Tsuzuki’s wrists twitched in their bonds, his eyes half-lidding as he let out a sudden hiss.
That sound, rank with pain and arousal, made Tatsumi’s breath catch with desire.
“That is only the beginning,” he growled.
When the last of Tsuzuki’s clothes was dealt with, Tatsumi reached into his pocket and brought out the fistful of metal clips. He laid them on the small table beside the bed, and then looked side-on at Tsuzuki.
Tsuzuki’s glance was flickering between Tatsumi and the clamps. With his hands imprisoned behind him, his chest rose and fell visibly, above the beautiful, lewd curve of his cock.
“I should keep you bound and naked all the time,” said Tatsumi quietly. “Exposure suits you.”
Their eyes met, and Tatsumi felt a deep thrill as a flush of pleasure rose into Tsuzuki’s cheeks.
Mine, he thought, almost in wonder.
“You need a collar and leash in black leather to offset that lovely red,” he went on aloud, picking up two of the weaker clips and slipping them back into his trouser pocket. “And proper bindings, to keep you in place. I may buy them for you, if you please me.”
“I’ll try, Tatsumi-sensei,” said Tsuzuki humbly.
“You will also learn discipline,” Tatsumi told him. “Do you know how many times you have distracted me from my work? How many times I have wanted to chastise you right there in my office?”
As he spoke, he regarded Tsuzuki severely, but when he glanced down to unbuckle his belt and slide it free, Tatsumi’s heart lurched in his throat. Was it really him saying all these things so calmly?
Well, he had thought them often enough, if he was honest with himself, and now, with Tsuzuki’s excitement charging the air, they came to his tongue like exotic endearments.
“I’m sorry, sensei,” Tsuzuki whispered.
Slowly Tatsumi started forward, pulling the length of the belt through his free hand, enjoying the smooth hiss of its passage. He was acutely conscious of the aching of his own cock as Tsuzuki’s glance fixed on the belt and he swallowed visibly, fear flickering behind the desire in his eyes.
“Stand still,” Tatsumi snapped. Tsuzuki obeyed, and again Tatsumi experienced the heady rush of power: this lovely creature was his to enjoy “No whipping tonight,” he continued in a more even tone, and he hung the belt over the bedrail. “There are other ways.”
Reaching Tsuzuki but not touching him, Tatsumi paused for a moment and leant in towards his ear.
“And you do remember the way to stop this?” he murmured gently, wanting to be absolutely sure this would go right.
“Sakura,” said Tsuzuki, his breath caressing Tatsumi’s shoulder.
“Yes,” said Tatsumi. “And if you cannot speak,” he added after a moment. “Click your fingers twice.”
Then he wrapped his arms around his lover and pulled him in close. Tsuzuki’s torso already felt heated under his hands, and their cocks pressed together.
Something hot and savage rose up inside Tatsumi. Gripping Tsuzuki as hard as he could, he sank his teeth into his lover’s cheek, growling deep in his throat. Tsuzuki panted and squirmed, but Tatsumi held him mercilessly, and in a few seconds he quietened, the tension not leaving his body but seeming to tune itself to the pain.
Finally Tatsumi let go.
“In this room, you belong to me,” he growled, drawing back and pushing up his glasses to watch the scarlet tracks of his bite as they rose and mottled Tsuzuki’s skin.
“Yes, sensei,” said Tsuzuki meekly, though his eyes shone, startling purple above the startling red of his abused cheek. “I’ll try to be good.”
Lightly, Tatsumi ran a nail up the underside of Tsuzuki’s cock, enjoying the little shiver of pleasure and frustration the action produced. “Then go and kneel on the bed,” he instructed. “And we will test that resolution.”
Tsuzuki obeyed, and for a moment Tatsumi forced himself to turn his back. He collected Tsuzuki’s clothes from the table, stowed them more neatly in the wardrobe, and then began to undress himself. He was almost surprised to find he was doing this: there was a delicious frisson to being clothed while Tsuzuki was naked. But this time he wanted to be as close to Tsuzuki as possible.
There was a muffled intake of breath from behind him as Tsuzuki realised what was happening. Tatsumi smiled slightly to himself and continued at his previous pace, neatly folding his trousers onto their hanger.
As he removed his final layer of clothes, he touched himself, knowing Tsuzuki was watching. Perhaps once he would have been inhibited by the thought of such a thing. Once.
When he finished and turned round, Tsuzuki was staring him up and down. His eyes were wide and almost unreadably dark as they met Tatsumi’s. With his arms still pinned behind his back he knelt up on the bed, swaying very slightly to keep his balance – all captured innocence, from head to waist. Below that, his cock thrust eagerly out towards Tatsumi, shameless and trusting.
In spite of his resolution, Tatsumi was almost embarrassed. Not to be naked... but to be looked at that way. To be wanted so much and so openly. And he knew his own expression mirrored Tsuzuki’s, less crudely but no less completely than the arc of his erection matched its twin.
Grasping his cock in his hand, he moved towards the bed.
“Tsuzuki-san,” he said formally. Somehow, speaking that way gave him confidence.
“Tatsumi-sensei,” Tsuzuki echoed, equally gravely. He sat back on his heels, looking up at his lover.
Tatsumi carefully smoothed a place for himself and sat on the bed beside Tsuzuki. He cupped Tsuzuki’s balls in his free hand, tightening his fingers gradually.
“You understand that you are to be severely disciplined?” he asked.
“I’ll try to endure it as quietly as I can,” said Tsuzuki meekly, looking down at his imprisoned sac.
“No,” said Tatsumi, a little more sharply than he had intended – the wrong kind of sharpness. “No,” he amended in a gentle, firm tone. He didn’t want Tsuzuki to feel restrained, not truly. “If I don’t see you suffering, how will I know the punishment is effective?”
“Besides,” he murmured, and his voice became deeper, even slightly slurred, in spite of himself. “I like to hear you in pain. If you struggle, then I will hurt you more.”
It shocked him a little, to hear himself say that. He had said similar things earlier, but in the heat of the hottest moment, and not to Tsuzuki’s face.
But Tsuzuki did not look shocked. His eyes half-lidded, and a small moan escaped his throat as his head tipped slightly back.
“Do it,” he whispered, looking down at the silver clip that Tatsumi held ready in his hand. “Please.”
Tatsumi raised his legs onto the bed and moved round into a kneeling position, knees interlocking with Tsuzuki’s as he bore down on the smaller shinigami. Holding one of the clamps between thumb and forefinger, he ran the edge once, twice, three times across Tsuzuki’s right nipple before positioning it open over the little nub, and gradually allowing it to close.
As the metal dug into his skin, Tsuzuki drew a long, ragged breath. He swayed a little to one side and back again, as if the pain was leaking over into motion, but Tatsumi anchored his shoulder with a firm hand, and snapped the other clip into place. This time Tsuzuki whimpered and lolled forward.
“Look at me,” instructed Tatsumi gently. Tsuzuki raised his head, revealing the pale sweep of his chest with its two metal butterflies latched symmetrically in place, as if feeding.
“How does that feel?” Tatsumi asked, studying Tsuzuki’s face, but even as he spoke the lines of pain seemed to shift, not fading but becoming tempered by a shaky, blissful, smile.
“It hurts,” said Tsuzuki softly. “But gods, it’s good.”
Tatsumi pulled him into an embrace, and for a long time they kissed, Tatsumi fisting his hands in Tsuzuki’s hair or reaching down to twist one of the clips and drink in the taste of pain and excitement as Tsuzuki’s numbing flesh awoke again to fire.
Eventually Tatsumi pulled away, gently pushing Tsuzuki back as he tried to follow the kiss.
“Sit still,” he scolded. “Be a good boy and wait.”
Tsuzuki sat back on his heels, looking disappointed but obedient. He watched curiously as Tatsumi got off the bed and raided the bottom of the chest for some old ties, then came round behind him to undo his hands.
“Now,” said Tatsumi, clasping Tsuzuki’s hand tightly against the small of his back for a moment, before setting them free. “On your back, Tsuzuki-san. Arms and legs out.”
Tsuzuki hastened to reposition himself, his newly-released arms betraying him a little as he tried to move them too fast. Eventually he settled, and his eyes shone as he craned his neck to look towards Tatsumi, now standing at the foot of the bed.
Tatsumi allowed his tongue to flicker between his lips at the sight of Tsuzuki so completely exposed. He let his eyes travel slowly from Tsuzuki’s spread legs, to the vulnerable nest of flesh at his groin, to his caged nipples and his lovely face. There, Tatsumi let his gaze rest while Tsuzuki slowly blushed redder and redder, his neck trembling with the effort of craning upwards, until his head dropped back onto the pillow.
Only then did Tatsumi take an ankle in his hand, hefting it as if carelessly and beginning to wind it around with a tie.
“You will accept the position I choose for you,” he informed Tsuzuki calmly.
When both feet were fixed in place, Tatsumi stepped up to the head of the bed and picked up Tsuzuki’s left hand. Tsuzuki’s head rested motionless a few inches away, his eyes directed towards the ceiling, but Tatsumi could tell his other senses were focused on the one point of contact between them, the pressure of Tatsumi’s fingers as he adjusted and bound.
The first hand secured, Tatsumi slowly walked around the bottom of the bed, watching Tsuzuki as he lay still, now almost completely restrained, breathing evenly with an expression of peace on his face. His nipples were whitened slivers of flesh in their metal cages, aureoles blooming dark around them.
“Do you trust me?” Tatsumi asked. He picked up Tsuzuki’s free wrist, and ran a thumb over the thick discoloured ridges that marred the soft skin of the inside – traces of an anguish that had brought no compensatory joy. Never before had he so openly acknowledged the intimate marks where Tsuzuki’s past was etched into his body, but Tsuzuki showed no discomfort.
“Yes, sensei,” he replied quietly, and Tatsumi raised the scars to his lips and kissed them, feeling a pulse jump under their blank smoothness.
“Then you shall have what you deserve,” he promised, anchoring Tsuzuki’s last free limb with slow, firm twists. Tsuzuki smiled and let out a low moan as Tatsumi fastened the final knot, pulling gently on the ties as if to test them, and only succeeding in showing off his helplessness.
“You will be writhing in earnest soon,” Tatsumi assured him, extracting a formal tie from the pile on the table. Sitting on the edge of the bed with one foot on the floor, he leant over to plant a kiss on the softening curve of Tsuzuki’s cock, then cradled it in his palm and began to wind the black cord around and around its base.
Picking up a butterfly clip from the pile that now lay between them on the bed, Tatsumi pressed its curved side into the tender, crinkled flesh of Tsuzuki’s balls. At the cold metallic touch, Tsuzuki shuddered, craning his head up from the pillows and looking from Tatsumi’s hands to his face and back again. A small whimper escaped his mouth.
Tatsumi studied him – the slight tremble of his head as he held it up from his pinned arms, the redness of his parted lips, the utterly unselfconscious longing in his eyes.
I can make you fly like this.
“Beg,” he said quietly.
“Hurt me,” Tsuzuki pleaded. “Please, Tatsumi-sensei.”
Smiling, Tatsumi released the spring of the clip. Tsuzuki let his head drop back onto the pillow, breathing deeply. When Tatsumi added another on the opposite side, he let out a thin whine; two more and a muscle in his thigh jumped, pulling helplessly at his pinned foot.
“Good boy,” Tatsumi murmured, shifting position so that he was leaning over Tsuzuki’s upper body instead of his groin. “But I think you can take a lot more.”
“Yes, sensei.” Tsuzuki made a visible effort to speak firmly, sliding his tongue over dry lips.
Tatsumi kissed him, almost chastely, on the cheek, then ran a hand down to his chest and tweaked both butterfly clips from his nipples in quick succession. Tsuzuki exhaled in a short burst, drew the breath back in equally sharply, and after a few seconds’ delay began to laugh.
“Doubtless Watari would have a scientific explanation for why you react to stimuli in such a fashion,” said Tatsumi, letting amusement and tenderness nudge aside the authority in his tone.
“They’re endorphins, I think,” said Tsuzuki, smiling up at him a bit woozily.
Tatsumi looked at him, and then at the little pile of clamps, and a sharp thrill of anticipation shot through the comfortable warmth that had filled him. His eyes had fallen on the six tight foldback clips: stiff, narrow triangles of coloured plastic that could be properly opened only with such great effort that they frequently shot out of his fingers when he used them at the office. He had once caught one on the tough webbing between his finger and thumb, and the pain had been enough to make him drop his papers and curse.
He picked one up and raised it into view. Tsuzuki went very still, his eyes widening slightly as Tatsumi opened the little jaws of the clamp, controlling them with obvious difficulty.
“I wonder how you will react to these,” said Tatsumi mock-casually, letting his hand move downwards. Tsuzuki was scared as well as excited, he could see that – just as he had been before the whipping, which had been more obviously violent but perhaps less intimate than this.
“I don’t know,” Tsuzuki replied simply, and as well as the fear in his voice there was a kind of receptive innocence that made Tatsumi’s heart constrict with desire.
“You wanted this, didn’t you?” he demanded, bending over Tsuzuki’s face as he hovered the clamp over one reddened nipple. “You wanted to suffer.” He grasped Tsuzuki’s chin tightly, feeling the slight tremor of his nod.
“Then suffer,” Tatsumi murmured. He ghosted a kiss across Tsuzuki’s lips, and the clip contracted into place.
Tsuzuki screamed. He tried to pull his limbs in, but only managed to make the bedposts creak and scrape against the floor. After a moment he mastered himself, panting unevenly as he stared fixedly up at the ceiling. Tatsumi caressed him, moving rough and loving hands across his heaving chest, pinching his other nipple into a peak and then fitting the clamp. Tsuzuki screamed again, more hoarsely, the sound sputtering out into a high-pitched whine as he tossed his head from side to side.
Tatsumi longed to crush his mouth against Tsuzuki’s and feed on that naked sound, but the torture was not complete. Picking up more clips he brushed them down the length of Tsuzuki’s cock to the soft, wrinkled skin of his balls. Convulsively Tsuzuki twitched away, but at the same time his shaft stood rigid, slight moisture beading at its end in spite of its bindings.
“Come here,” Tatsumi barked, grabbing Tsuzuki’s cock and pumping it hard, the handful of clips caught between his palm and the tender flesh. Tsuzuki kept gasping, delicious pleading little sounds that made Tatsumi’s heart burn with the fierce delight of possession. But he forced himself to release his grip, and instead to gather up Tsuzuki’s scrotum and begin applying the relentless jaws of the clamps.
Tsuzuki lost control.
“No!” he cried, his whole body jerking to one side as the bed scraped against the floor. Tatsumi grabbed him roughly by the waist, pulled him back and delivered a stinging slap to his flank.
“Yes,” Tatsumi snarled, holding Tsuzuki down with one hand while the other fitted the final clamps. He climbed onto the bed and straddled the shuddering hips. “These are mine,” he said, reaching behind him to tug at Tsuzuki’s tortured balls. “And I will treat them as I wish.”
Tatsumi twisted the clips between his fingers, and Tsuzuki’s face distorted with pain as he whimpered, his eyes roaming desperately around the room. But Tatsumi leant forwards, the rounded ends of the nipple clamps poking his chest in a wry echo of the agony they were inflicting on Tsuzuki, and shifted his weight to lie on top of his lover, grabbing a handful of hair and meeting his eyes.
“Yes,” Tatsumi repeated in a much gentler tone.
Tsuzuki stared up at him from bare inches away, eyes dark and wild and loving. He opened his mouth to speak, but the sound cracked into a groan.
“...sei...” he managed, and a moment’s unexpected sadness rippled through Tatsumi; that to Tsuzuki he was sensei even now; that perhaps, in the end, Tsuzuki loved this game more than the man he shared it with.
“...chirou...” Tsuzuki finished, between gasps.
At first Tatsumi did not understand the significance of the random syllables. And then he realised, as clearly and calmly as if he had spotted the solution to an accounting glitch: that is my given name.
For a moment, Tatsumi’s movements slowed. He stroked a thumb across Tsuzuki’s sweaty forehead, loving him and willing him to understand all the things Tatsumi was not equipped to say in words. Tsuzuki whimpered, eyes fluttering half-shut at the gentle touch, and Tatsumi leant down to nuzzle his cheek.
“Yes,” he breathed for a third time, hard against Tsuzuki’s skin. “And I’m going to break you now, Asato.”
He drew back sharply, twisting his fistful of Tsuzuki’s hair, and revelled in the harshness of his movements and Tsuzuki’s helpless acquiescence as his head was jerked upwards. Cradling the back of his lover’s neck, Tatsumi brushed his lips over Tsuzuki’s face once, twice – and then took his mouth, plunging in with all the force he could muster. Tsuzuki moaned low in his throat and their tongues twined together, Tsuzuki’s battering at Tatsumi’s with a force that was almost but not quite strong enough to be resistance.
Lowering Tsuzuki’s head without breaking their kiss, Tatsumi reached down and inserted his hand between their bodies. He lifted his groin and stroked himself first, taking his time though Tsuzuki went nearly frantic beneath him. Then he took pity, and undid the binding from Tsuzuki’s cock.
They moved together, hard and fast. As Tatsumi felt himself approaching the edge he pulled away from their kiss, raising himself to take Tsuzuki’s balls in his hand. Crushing them with a violent love, he yanked off the clamps and worked upwards, his caresses passionate and harsh. Tsuzuki came in his hand, crying out words that were beyond meaning.
With a clumsy lash of shadow, Tatsumi severed the ties that held Tsuzuki’s wrists. Slowly, jerkily, as movement returned, Tsuzuki raised his arms and fastened them around his lover’s shoulders. One final thrust between his own hand and the sated cock beneath him, and Tatsumi came in an explosion of pleasure that made the world tilt and ring.
As he finally collapsed he felt he was falling into Tsuzuki, and would never climb out again.
~*~
Tsuzuki stayed the night. Somehow it did not occur to either of them to question that he would, until they were already lying together in the darkness, sheets changed, bodies clean.
“Tomorrow will be hard,” murmured Tsuzuki into Tatsumi’s hair. It was stupidly obvious, but he felt better for saying it.
“I am concerned too,” admitted Tatsumi, squeezing his arm. And although their situation had not changed, it made things more bearable to know that Tatsumi felt the same way, and they would be able to stand together.
~*~
In the morning they kissed, Tatsumi’s alarm bleeping in the background because neither of them wanted to unclinch and attend to it. Tatsumi groped around to Tsuzuki’s ass and tried to give him a few sharp smacks – but his hand caught on the sheet, turning them into feeble taps, and he came up laughing.
“Later,” he assured Tsuzuki meaningfully, reaching for his glasses and finally quelling the alarm.
“Later,” Tsuzuki repeated like a vow.
~*~
On the way to the office, they visited Chijou so Tsuzuki could buy a bag of donuts. Afterwards, he stood outside the shop, counting his remaining coins.
Grave-faced, Tatsumi reached into his pocket and added a binder clip to the pile.
“To keep with you today,” he said.
“I love you,” Tsuzuki replied.
At 7.59am they walked up the steps of the JuoOhCho building, to face whatever might lie ahead.
~*~
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